


songs that say goodbye

by butforthegrace



Category: Attack the Block (2011)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butforthegrace/pseuds/butforthegrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>But that affection seems like it belongs to another Sam, the Sam that stopped existing the day an alien fell from the sky and crashed into a car.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	songs that say goodbye

Charlie comes back to England five days after the alien attack, panicked by the news. Sam doesn’t meet him at the airport; he comes to the little hotel room she’s staying in. The Block’s been evacuated, and she wouldn’t want to be at her apartment anyway.

Charlie’s got a nice tan, she notices as he hugs her tight; she barely recognized him when she opened the door, and she doesn’t know who’s changed: him or her.

“It’s so good to see you, Sam,” he says, hands on her shoulders. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“You didn’t need to come. Really.”

His smile fades a little. “Sam—“

She steps past him, shuts the door; her hand goes instinctually to the deadbolt. She hasn’t slept since the attack, but she locks everything she can anyway, as if that would protect her if the aliens came back. As if anything could protect her.

Her thoughts jump briefly to Moses and Pest and the others, but she forces herself to pay attention to the man in front of her, the man who looks surprised and a little wounded, the man who she doesn’t recognize anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and tries to smile. “I haven’t been able to fuc—to sleep. I’m not in the best mood.”

“It’s okay.” He looks at her earnestly. “I understand. Something like that—I don’t think anyone could sleep after that.”

“Mm.”

He pulls her into an embrace, and she leans her head against his chest in an approximation of the way she used to. But that affection seems like it belongs to another Sam, the Sam that stopped existing the day an alien fell from the sky and crashed into a car.

 

 

They turn on the news that night, on the crappy hotel TV; Charlie went earlier to get Chinese and Sam curled up in the narrow bed and tried to believe that things could be normal again. And maybe they can be, she thinks. This feels normal, watching the news with your boyfriend, his arm around you and his chin on your head. But maybe this isn’t really normal anymore.

As she watches Charlie watch the news, she remembers Pest, remembers what he said:  _Why can’t he help the children of Britain?_

She wants to ask, but she doesn’t. She keeps her mouth shut and the TV on.

 

 

Charlie tries. He tries really hard. He buys her meals, he looks for apartments, he calls her work to explain that she can’t come back just yet. He tells her he missed her when he was in Ghana, he tells her he loves her.

And then he asks her if she’ll marry him, right as she’s debating whether or not to break up with him.

She loved him once, is the problem; she loved him before he went to Ghana, before the aliens came, before the Block was attacked. But everything changed that night, and she doesn’t know if she wants to try to make things the way they were, because when she looks at him she doesn’t feel anything anymore.

 

 

So when he says, “Sam, I have a question for you,” she looks at him with panic.

They’re at a restaurant, one they used to go to all the time before he left; the food isn’t there yet and she’s playing with a napkin on her lap, trying not to look at him, trying not to think about anything but static.

“Sam,” and everything goes slow, “Sam,” she’s trying to tell him not to keep going but no sound is coming out of her mouth, “Sam, will you marry me?”

The world rushes back in with a bang, noise exploding around her; her head’s in her hands and she’s crying and he looks so confused, so desperate. “I can’t, Charlie, I can’t,” she wails. Before he can say anything, she stands up and rushes out of the restaurant, into the cold London night.

 

 

He comes by the hotel room that night, his knuckles rapping soft on the door. Sam doesn’t want to let him in, but she does anyway, because he’s got a few things here and it’s not like he can get them back otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” she says hoarsely as he walks in. She’s sure her face is well and red; she can feel the tears coming back. She’s been crying for hours, and she has no idea if it’s from guilt or relief.

“It’s okay, Sam.” Charlie picks up a book he’d left last night. “You did tell me I shouldn’t have come back.”

She stares at him, stunned, as he smiles wistfully at her and leaves the room.

 

 

She never sees him again.

She wishes that she cared.


End file.
